David Peace - Red or Dead

In the hospital bed. On his back. The young lad could not believe his eyes. In the hospital bed. In traction. The young lad struggled to sit up. But Bill patted his hand. And Bill said, You lie still, son. You lie still. I don’t want to disturb you now. I don’t want to be getting you in trouble with the nurses now. So you just lie still now, son. You just lie still. Because I’ve just popped in to cheer you up. And to have a word. Because your manager, Mr Thompson. He wrote to me. And he says you are not feeling too good. Stuck in here, on your back. Missing your mates …

Yeah, said the young lad. I’ve got to be in here five week. And then they say I can’t play again for the rest of the season. I’ve got to go easy when I get out. Or they say I won’t be able to play again. And so then I’ve been thinking, what if I can never play again …

Bill shook his head. Bill smiled. And Bill whispered, Nonsense, son. That’s bloody nonsense. Of course, you’ll have to take it easy, son. But you’ll be playing again. No danger …

Really, said the young lad. You think so?

Bill nodded. Bill smiled again. And Bill said, I know so, son. I know so. Because I’ve been in the same place you are, son. The very same place you are now. Long before you were born, mind. Probably before your dad was even born. I was playing for Preston at Halifax. During the war, in a war cup game. I took a kick to my knee, my left knee. And I’ll never forget the night I done it. I was stationed in Manchester. Because of the war. So after the game, I came back to Manchester. On the bus, over the moors. And my leg was a terrible size. Enormous it was. Bloody enormous! And so I knew it wasn’t right. I mean, you always get kicked. You’ll always have bruises. And you’ll always have cuts. But this was different. This was more serious. And so I went to the hospital. In Crumpsall, in Manchester. To let them take a look, to get the knee X-rayed. And when they took a look, when they saw the X-rays. They said I had a broken kneecap. A shattered kneecap. And so they put it in plaster. And when the fluid drained away. And the swelling went down. The plaster was wobbling all over the place. And so I got out of bed. And I remember, this nurse. This sister. She was from Ireland. And she said, What the hell do you think you are doing? You’ve got a broken leg, man. Get back in your bed and stop your messing around. But I said, How can my leg be broken? I’m standing on the thing. It can’t be broken now, can it?

And so what did you do, said the young lad. Did you get back in your bed, Bill? What did you do? What did you do?

Bill smiled. And Bill said, I did, son. I did. Because she was fierce, this sister. Kind, but very fierce. But I gave her a dog’s life. And so within a week, she sent me packing. Back to the camp. But when I got back to the camp, the medical officer there, he said to me, It might well not be broken, Bill. But it’s your cartilage. And so I don’t think you’ll ever play again, Bill. Not with that knee. That’s what he said. I don’t think you will ever play again. And I thought, Oh aye? Is that right? Well, I’ll show you. And after a few weeks, I was back training. And I was back playing. But it wasn’t right. The knee was not right. But then three great things happened to me, son. All because of my knee. First, I got a posting back up in Scotland. In Bishopbriggs, in Glasgow. And when I was there, I played for Partick Thistle. This is still during the war, you understand? In the war league. And the people at Partick were good people. And they knew my knee was not right. Because in my very first game for them, I took another knock. And by Christ, it hurt. It bloody hurt. And so they paid for me to have the operation on my knee. They paid for me to have the piece of cartilage removed. And that was very good of them. Very good of them indeed. And so that was one good thing. The first good thing that happened …

And what was the second good thing, Bill?

Bill smiled again. And Bill said, Well, the second good thing. The very best thing, in fact. After the operation, after I had the piece of cartilage removed. Then I was training every day. Rain or shine. Whatever the weather. Me and my mate Jock Porter. Training and running. Getting back my fitness, building back my strength. Just like you’ll have to do, son. Every day. Rain or shine. Training, running. Until you’ve got your fitness back, you’ve built your strength back. And so there I was, training. Running. Every day. In the rain and in the snow. And while I was doing my training. Doing my running. I used to see this young lass. And I liked her from the first time I set eyes on her. And I kept my eyes on her. And I started to chat to her, to pester her. And I remember, I used to take over toasted cheese to her section. Because she was in the Women’s RAF. And she was stationed at the same camp. And do you know who she was, son?

No, Bill. Who was she? Who was she?

Bill laughed. And Bill said, She was my wife, son. That was Ness. Because I asked her to marry me. And she said yes. And so you see, son. If it hadn’t have been for my knee. Injuring my knee. And then having that operation. And then doing that training. To get back on my feet, to get back playing again. Then I would have never met my wife. I would have never met Ness.

So that was really lucky, said the young lad. You broke your knee. But then you met your wife. That was really lucky, wasn’t it?

Bill shook his head. Bill smiled. And Bill said, Yes and no, son. Yes and no. You see, I don’t think it was luck. To be very honest with you, I don’t believe in luck. I believe in hard work. And not listening to folk who are negative folk. The ones that will tell you you will never play again. And sometimes those folk are you. Your own voice. And so I believe you should never listen to those voices. Those voices that are always telling you what you can’t do. Pessimistic voices. I believe you have to prove those voices wrong. And get back on your feet. Get training again, working again. Working hard to prove them wrong. And so you see, if I had just given up. If I had believed what that medical officer had said to me. When he said, You will never play again. Then I wouldn’t have gone back to Scotland, to Partick Thistle. And I wouldn’t have had that operation. And then after the operation. If I had just felt sorry for myself. If I hadn’t wanted to get back on my feet, to get back playing again. Then I wouldn’t have started training again. And then I wouldn’t have seen Ness. And so you see, I don’t believe it was a question of luck. I believe it was a question of determination. And a question of hard work.

You are right, said the young lad. You are dead right, Bill. And that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to do the same.

Bill nodded. Bill smiled again. And Bill said, Well, that’s the best news I’ve heard all year, son. That’s tremendous. Because you can. You can do it. I know you can. If you put your mind to a thing, you can do anything. If you work, work hard. And don’t give up.

I won’t, said the young lad. I promise you, Bill. But what was the third thing? You said there were three good things …

Bill laughed again. And Bill said, Oh yes. We won the Summer Cup. After the operation, after my cartilage. I thought, Well, I better thank Partick Thistle. For all they have done for me. It is the least I can do. After all they have done for me. And so I helped them win the Summer Cup. We beat the Hibs two — nil. At Hampden Park.

That’s brilliant, said the young lad. That’s just brilliant, Bill. Dead good. What position did you play, Bill? What were you?

Midfield, said Bill. What used to be called a right-half. But what about you, son? What position do you play?

I’m a defender, said the young lad.